


The Case of the Missing Tie

by spiralsofourmusic



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cute, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gay Draco Malfoy, Gay Harry Potter, Good Draco Malfoy, Humor, M/M, Married Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Romance, Romantic Draco Malfoy, Romantic Fluff, Romantic Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:40:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28334784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiralsofourmusic/pseuds/spiralsofourmusic
Summary: Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter have a very important family dinner to attend, but Draco's darn tie is missing and the temptation of a quick nap is too much to resist...
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Kudos: 49





	The Case of the Missing Tie

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe belongs entirely to J.K. Rowling

“Harry?” A vexed voice called from upstairs.

“Harry?!” It called again, growing with frustration. Poor Harry Potter was strewn on the living room couch, cheek squished inelegantly into the pristine leather and his glasses askew. It had been a long day and the fact that he and Draco had to attend the monthly Weasley family dinner in about two hours had completely slipped his fatigued mind.

“Harry, I’m trying to find the emerald tie you bought me, but it’s not in the drawer where it is _supposed_ to go, mind you!” Draco paused as if expecting his husband to reply with its whereabouts, but continued exasperatedly when he did not. “Love, I need my tie! Can you please come up here!”

Harry snorted awake, straightening his glasses as he peeled his cheek off of the couch and wiping the drool from the corner of his mouth. He groaned groggily, which sounded something like, “yeahI’mcomin’...” before gracelessly toppling onto the wooden floor below with a dull thump.

Draco didn’t even bother calling out to check what had happened; this was not the first occurrence. He leant his forehead gently against the wall next to the chest of drawers and sighed in defeat of having failed to find his tie and made his way to the ridiculously spiralled staircase which Harry had insisted was impractical, but his argument was stubbornly ignored. Draco slid his slim fingers, perfect for playing slow piano pieces to Harry to soothe his lingering nightmares, down the railing as he descended the stairs, smirking lovingly down at the pile of twisted limbs on the floor with an habitual eye roll as he approached him. 

Draco moved, as always, with a haughty elegance which Harry often stared dreamily at when he wasn’t looking as if he were some sort of angel, which made complete sense. Draco was often clad in perfectly tailored black pants, pointed, shined black shoes and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up in four equal rolls with the top button left undone. The addition of a tie, which appeared on night such as the Weasley family dinner night, was what Harry called the 'cherry on top'. His fine, platinum blond hair paired with his shining blue eyes only added to his angelic appearance and left Harry giddy with disbelief at the man he got to spend each and every day with.

Having reached the couch, Draco knelt down soundlessly in front of Harry’s head, still face-down on the floor with no intention of moving, and began to stroke his fingers through the thick, black locks that resisted even the most powerful of Draco’s hair gels, leaving it perpetually unkept. He would never admit this to Harry, but he found this charmingly endearing.  Harry let out a soft, contented sigh before he slowly lifted his heavy hand up to meet his lover’s, hooking their pinkies together which left Draco with a soft, dopey smile on his otherwise angular visage.  The ostensibly lanky, too-elegant-for-his-own-good blond was in fact rather strong, so cradling Harry into his arms to put him back onto the couch was no arduous task. Draco placed his husband’s lolling head onto his lap, his eyes still closed, but with a grateful smile just visible on his face.

Harry suddenly began to stretch out his arms, almost slapping Draco in the face as he did so, earning him a loud, “Potter!", yelped in his ear, with a quieter, “watch those cheekbones you love so much...” that he mumbled under his breath. Harry snorted before rubbing his tired eyes and slowly fluttering them open, gazing peacefully into the diamond-blue eyes that greeted him from above. He reached up with a hand to run his fingers down those very cheekbones. 

“Ah yes, sorry, love”, before adding with feigned sentimentality, “I love those cheekbones almost as much as I love those nostrils that I have a very clear view of right now.”

Draco threw him off his lap with another undignified, “Potter!”, as Harry laughed hysterically, thumping back onto the floor. Harry managed to wheeze out, “Yes, _Potter?_ ”, before Draco practically flung himself onto him, straddling his hips and attempting to hold down his writhing arms, before joining his husband in his soundless, gasping laughter and finally allowing himself to melt into his partner.

Once their hysterics had subsided, the two found themselves on their backs, Draco’s head resting on Harry’s arm with their legs entwined. They were looking up at their ceiling, enchanted to resemble a cloudless night sky with bright, twinkling stars spattered across it. This was not a remake of Hogwarts’ Great Hall ceiling, however, but Draco’s third wedding anniversary present to Harry; a recreation of the night of their first date at a secluded park when Draco suggested they go stargazing. The date when Harry realised that Draco’s hard outer shell was just that, a shell, that protected the softest, most sentimental of insides that very few were permitted to discover. That night was the beginning of the rest of their lives together and this ceiling forever reminded them to never shut the other one out. It also allowed Draco to remind Harry that he was ‘undeniably the better present-giver’ when it came to such events.  Draco had forgotten all about the case of the missing tie and instead occupied himself with making sure Harry was comfortable, returning his fingers to his jet black hair, dragging them both down into a blissful state of calm and joy...

“Shit!” Harry spat out hoarsely, sitting up wildly and jolting Draco awake who let out an annoyed growl. Harry whipped out his wand and casted a anxious _tempus_ before whining, “love, it’s 5:47!”. Draco shot up too.

“I need my tie!” Draco cried. 

“ _That’s_ what you’re worrying about right now?!" Harry retorted, "we’ve got thirteen minutes to make ourselves look awake and then floo to the Burrow! Now, I know I can do that, but I think we both know that you can’t.”  There was a concerned moment of silence before they both began to snigger. 

Harry quickly pulled Draco up to standing before giving him a swift peck on the lips and announcing, “operation-get- Draco-ready-for-dinner in thirteen- no, twelve minutes, is a-go!”.

Those next twelve minutes were a frantic, yet oddly enjoyable sprint up the stupidly spiralled staircase, a joint effort in removing each others’ clothes from the day and then a re-dressing that was just as clumsy, concluded with a final yell of, “Huzzah!!”, from Harry as he practically threw himself out of their walk-in-wardrobe; yes, again, Draco’s idea, holding the long-lost emerald tie in his triumphant hand.

“Where?!” Draco cried out with wonder and drunk with amusement.

“Hanging over one of your shirts!”

“Wrong spot, love!!”

“Oh, well, never mind that _now_!” Harry guffawed before dragging his husband down the stairs and pulling him close to his body in front of the empty fireplace, both of them panting.

“One minute left...” he whispered sedately into Draco’s ear before bringing his hands up to grasp the sides of his lover’s face and pulling him in for a passionate, messy kiss to match their frantic dinner preparation. Draco loved it immensely when Harry brought disarray and spontaneity into his meticulously organised life and these imperfect kisses were his favourite way Harry did just that.  When they unwillingly drew away from the other, they entwined their hands together as Harry’s free hand reached for a handful of floo power from the ornate wooden box that Bill and Fleur had given them as a wedding gift. They both stepped into the fireplace, Draco ducking rather exaggeratedly as he always did as if to prove his superior height to Harry’s. They cast a quick glance at each other with an adoring smile before Harry threw down the powder and they spoke in unison, “the Burrow!”.


End file.
